Appetite
by Genevieve Darcy Granger
Summary: Caught between Lucille's ghost and reality, Negan struggles to overcome his desires. He needs empathy, a human connection, and he needs to let go of Lucille. Maybe to do that, he needs someone else to hold onto.
1. A Thirst for Blood

Lucille's barbwire shined, glittering like the teeth of a hungry wolf in the moonlight. Negan always made sure to keep her meticulously clean, periodically replacing the barbwire so that Lucille would never lose the cutting edge of her bite, never letting her rust. She was his lady – and Negan took his time treating his lady right. He'd tenderly unwrap the barbwire, carefully not to scrape her smooth wooden surface. Negan would polish her, too, just as good as he always polished his dick. His lady deserved nothing but the best.

Taking care of Lucille, though, also meant satisfying her needs. His Lucille was a thirsty girl, and she didn't care if it was the blood of the living or the dead – she wanted it. Never one to deny her anything (even before) Negan took her everywhere, and if someone stepped out of line or if a dead-alive got too close for comfort, Lucille would protect him.

Tonight was no different. Negan had gone out on a run that had gone from bad idea to fucking horrible, shitty, whoever-planned-this-is-getting-the-iron idea. The plan originally was to clear out a small Target so that it could be set up as an outpost. Also, it had some domestic supplies that were needed at the Sanctuary since there were so many people staying there now, like more furniture, towels – the simple necessitates that have become a luxury in this post-apocalyptic world. Well, the intel Negan's scouts had gotten was dead (ha!) wrong. Instead of being just two dozen or so dead-alives milling around, try closer to a hundred. They were fucked and overwhelmed from the start.

That didn't mean Negan was going to give up so damn easily, though. He stood his ground, pushing some newbie behind him while he wielded Lucille. Lucille and Negan lived for these kinds of moments where they could just let go of all control and have at it. Negan unleashed Lucille on the hoard of dead-alives, swinging hard and feeling that satisfying impact of her wood cracking open their softened, decayed skulls. It put Negan in the mood to have his own wood split something open to, but his boner would have to wait. For now, it was Lucille's turn, and given how many of the dead-alives there were, she was going to be satisfied many times over.

It was almost graceful the way she arched in the air, wind whistling between her barbwire, and crashed against dead-alives. They'd crumble before her, but more would keep coming, stumbling over their fallen comrades only to get a face full of baseball bat. The way Lucille moved, quick but powerful, it was as if she was an extension of Negan himself, like he grew another limb with her. But then again, like his dick, Lucille seemed to have a mind of her own. She didn't just want to kill the dead-alives for good. Lucille wanted to devour them back for attempting to eat Negan, her barbwire catching on their grey, rotting flesh and separating it from bone. Dark red blood would spray everywhere, drip from her barbwire, coat her wood like creamy pussy juice on Negan's dick. The experience was heady, and the visual left Negan breathless in this dance of death.

Negan had been intimate with death before. He remembered his Lucille – the real Lucille. In a way, this baseball bat was a lot like her. His Lucille was breathtakingly beautiful, incredibly athletic, fiercely competitive, overzealously jealous, overprotective to a fault, and thirsty. If there was a reason for Negan to have five wives it was because Lucille had instilled him an insatiable licentious nature. God, he had loved her, no doubt in his mind that she was the woman made for him. A true soulmate. But Negan was greedy, and he hadn't been satisfied with Lucille, even though he knew that she was the best thing he had in his life. Like the asshole he was, Negan cheated on Lucille and only ended his affair once he found out that his wife was dying from cancer.

This Lucille was no different than the old one. Negan cheated on her, too. He'd kill people without using her, whether it was with a gun or the large, serrated knife he kept on one of his belts. Negan would punish people without using her either, most recently with the iron. Part of him considered naming the knife and the iron, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Lucille was special; one of the many reasons he hadn't divorced her once he started to stray from their marriage.

But Negan cheated on this baseball bat Lucille in other ways. He hadn't been satisfied just rubbing his dick against her, rutting until he came, spewing his white, sticky come over her in jets that clung to her barbwire and contrasted with the smooth grain of her wood. Negan went and found real pussy, tired of fucking his fist and masturbating against a bat in memory of his dead wife. Sometimes he would still use her for his satisfaction, but more often than not she was left forgotten in an armchair. She would watch him fuck one of his wives and leave pearly streaks of his come on their smooth skin instead. He knew that she'd get jealous, but he didn't care. Part of him – the part that would get angry and frustrated with himself to betraying Lucille's memory – would always remind Negan that this Lucille was still, just only a baseball bat. And baseball bats didn't have a pussy.

Lost in thought – how strange that killing dead-alives has become something Negan just went through the motions with – Negan hadn't been able to stop one of the dead-alives soon enough. It got close, too damn close as it bit into his arm, but his leather jacket was too thick, so it didn't get through. "God fucking damn it, you piece of shit!" Negan couldn't very well just bash his own arm with Lucille, so he struggled to grasp his knife. While he struggled, other dead-alives came too close and he swung Lucille out in an arc to ward them off, struggling to shake off this one already attached to him.

God, it was hideous and he honestly tried not to look at it too closely, but he did and he wanted to scream. It looked Lucille did after her months of chemo. Completely bald, but the skin color and the shirt it wore reminded him of Lucille's favorite lounging shirt. But it couldn't be her. Negan could remember what his Lucille looked like when she was in her prime, alive and well, and hell if she would ever look as horrible as this. Fueled with rage, Negan shook fear's clutches off and attempted to do the same with the dead-alive on his arm. "Fuck, you are one ugly motherfucker! Fuck you!"

And then a knife went through its skull – right at the temple. Its jaw dropped open and it collapsed. Surprised, Negan looked up at who saved him, and it was that newbie girl that he had pushed behind him earlier. She was breathing heavily, dark hair coming loose from where she pulled it back, skin flushed and sweaty. That newbie looked like she just fucked someone, not killed a dead-alive; she was damn beautiful and everything the dead-alive wasn't. For one, she was alive, but for another and more important reason – she looked nothing like Lucille. "Sir, we should retreat now," the newbie said and took ahold of his arm by the elbow, right where the dead-alive had bit him. Negan allowed himself to be dragged back to the trucks, keeping the other dead-alives off with Lucille.

Once they were back at the truck, Negan climbed inside first, the newbie practically pushing him in, shoving him by the ass. Not that he cared. He was a little numb, and collapsed in his seat unceremoniously. First, he had looked at Lucille in his hands with betrayal. She was dripping blood, but none of that blood was from the dead fuck that almost killed him. How could Lucille let him down like that? His girl always stuck by his side even if he wasn't physically by hers.

Again, Negan was dragged from his thoughts when he heard a shrill shout of anger. The newbie girl that had saved him was nearly dragged back out of the truck by her hair. The only thing keeping a dead-alive from sinking its rotten cavity-riddled teeth in her neck was the fact that she was holding it away through brute strength. Immediately, Negan surged forward and grabbed the girl by her neck. Lucille pushed the dead-alive fucker off, business-end first and its face collapsed in on itself as it got a mouth full of Lucille. When the dead-alive fell away, the newbie grabbed his arm and he hauled her back in the truck so she wouldn't be hanging out halfway anymore. One of his men shut the door behind them, and the tires were squealing on the pavement as they left for the Sanctuary again.

They had to take a detour so the horde wouldn't follow them, so it was going to be a long trip. Heart still loudly thumping in his ears, Negan finally let go of the newbie, and she fell back against the side of the van, coughing. Sitting again in his own designated spot, Negan watched the newbie recover and gently touch her throat. He should say thank you. He should promote her. He should ask if she's okay. He should apologize for choking her. He should do all of that and probably more, but instead Negan opened his mouth and said, "You should cut your fucking hair, newbie. Can't let shit like that getting you killed."

The newbie's dark eyes first widened and then went flinty. Clearly outraged, her mouth flattened into a line and she started breathing heavily again. Negan waited for her to explode at him. But she didn't. She once again surprised him. Looking over at the other men in the van, she locked her jaw and with a tremendous amount of effort, calmed her breathing again. The newbie nodded at him. "I will, sir," she croaked at him, voice cracked, and then she was silent for the rest of the trip. Silent and fuming, but she kept her anger simmering low, so it was still bearable for the rest of them.

Negan was grateful for that, too. He looked back down at Lucille in his hands, and he found it funny that she saved the newbie's life over his. He had always thought that Lucille was supposed to be jealous. Gently, he used one of the rags in the truck and wiped her down. Lucille had surprised him today, too.


	2. A Hunger for Something

"Oh, fuck yeah, Amber, spready those fucking long legs for Daddy!" Negan growled and continued to pound Amber hard. One hand had Amber's arms pinned down above her head by the wrists while the other hand played with her clitoris, his thumb swirling around it teasingly. Sweat dripped down his back, down his forehead, into his eyes and stinging, his black hair drooping with sweat over his eyes as well. His breath was ragged and Amber's even more so and she moaned deliriously, thoroughly dick-drunk.

Normally it would get him going even more to see her spread out beneath him like this, but instead Negan fucked her harder. It wasn't enough, he wanted more, but more of what, he wasn't sure. Amber's eyes flew open at his rougher thrusts, and she started coming around him, her cry shrill and ringing in his ears. But Negan wasn't impressed. "Come on, Amber, I know you can be fucking louder than that." He fucked her through her orgasm, ruthlessly mashing his thumb down on her clit. "Daddy knows you got another fucking orgasm in there, Amber, baby. Let me here it. Fucking come for Daddy."

Instead of getting louder, Amber whimpered pitifully, "Negan." She whined and whimpered, sucking her body lip in her mouth and batting her eyelashes at him as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Amber was so damn submissive, but for all of that, Negan wanted something different out of her. He knew she wouldn't call him 'Daddy' but that was fine. But maybe just something else.

Another thrust and Amber gripped him like a vice, and Negan pulled out so he could come on her stomach. He groaned, the sound unleashed between his gritted teeth, and then he collapsed to the side, mindful not to fall on her. Amber hated when he did that, not liking the feeling of his come being squished between them. Personally, Negan liked feeling like the top slice of bread of the sandwich, with his meat and his special sauce between them. But Amber was just no fun that way.

For a second, Negan was sated by his orgasm. He knew that Amber definitely was. She had come at least three times for him. That was the most she could handle before she'd start to squirm and get so uncomfortably overstimulated. Looking beside him, he could tell that was about to fall asleep. And suddenly Negan's irritability resurfaced. Damn it.

He'd been cranky and he thought a good roll in the hay with Amber was what he needed, but clearly, he was wrong. With a frustrated growl, he rolled out of Amber's bed and started to tug on his clothes. Rather than protesting, Amber peered up at him with bleary eyes. "Can you get a washcloth for this?" She gestured to his spurts of come that started to pool towards her navel.

For once, Negan would like it if she or any of the other wives asked him to stay. Just once. But they never did, instead choosing to kick him out or leave on their own. Again, this was normally fine with Negan, but today it wasn't. Rather than snapping at Amber – not like it's her fault that he's upset for some reason – Negan nodded and did as she asked, tenderly wiping her clean. He leaned down, expecting a thankful kiss, but instead Amber gently pushed him away. "No, Negan, I'm too tired now." Typical. Did she really think that he wanted to go for another round? He'd just pulled his clothes back on. Turning her back towards him, Amber sleepily mumbled, "Go to Frankie or Tanya if you want more."

Wounded, Negan grabbed Lucille and slammed the door behind him as he left. Maybe he should visit Frankie, but for a massage. Fucking was doing nothing to improve his damn mood. He'd been like this ever since that shit show at the Target last week. They still hadn't gone back there yet. Negan wasn't ready to. Making his way down the hall to Frankie's room, Negan entered without knocking and Frankie startled from where she'd been pouring herself a glass of wine. "Fuck, Negan!" She hissed at him, "You made me spill some of this wine. It's a rosé."

Unbothered, Negan started pulling off his shirt and jacket. "You should stop drinking so damn much, Frankie. You're fucking liver won't thank you for all that shit."

"Thank you, Dr. Negan," Frankie flatly replied, and continued to fill her glass to the brim. "Amber wasn't enough for you?" She asked him, bluntly. But that was Frankie for you. A flat (flat-chested, too), blunt, alcoholic masseuse. Negan often wondered if her bedside manner was always this shitty, but beggars couldn't be fucking choosers. Out of all of his wives, Negan trusted her to not spill his secrets, but she was still a shitty listener – and never held back on her judgments. At the look on his face, Frankie added, "I could hear you guys from down the hall. Sounds like you really gave it to her."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Frankie, but I'm not in the mood to fuck your brains out." Once he was shirtless, Negan stretched himself out on his belly on Frankie's bed, using her pillow to prop his head up comfortably. "I'm here for you to rub the fucking kinks out of my spine."

Frankie raised her eyebrows at him in surprise and took a small, mincing sip of her pink wine. She held it in her mouth for a moment, and then swallowed, looking even more surprised. "The word kink left your mouth and you didn't make a sexual innuendo? Amber really must have done a bad job." Before he could respond otherwise, Frankie had already set her wine glass down and moved to gather her massage oils that Negan recovered for her on a run. It was as much a gift to him as it was to her, though.

"Besides," Frankie admitted casually, "we wouldn't really be able to fuck anyway." She patted her belly. "I'm on my period right now."

"Come on, Frankie, you know I don't give a shit if you are or not. If you're down to fuck, then so am I. I don't only have to fuck your pussy, either."

"There's the Negan I know." Frankie sounded somewhat pleased, if not amused.

Negan briefly chucked and then shifted, trying to relax himself. Frankie was still looking for her oils and he was getting antsy. Irritability rising again, Negan said, "Frankie, didn't I tell you ladies that when you're on the red fucking wave of Mother Nature's shitty gift you fucking tell me? It's nice knowing that I've been careful enough not to knock any of you lovely ladies up yet. Hell, pregnancy would make some improvements to your tits, though."

Inelegantly, Frankie snorted, "Sorry, I didn't tell you sooner. Must have slipped my mind." Finding her oils, she moved over to the bed, squeezing a generous portion onto the palm of her hand and rubbing her hands together to warm the oil before she could apply it to his skin. Negan had complained enough about her doing otherwise or skimping out on the oil, too.

As soon as Frankie's warm and slicked up hands touched his back, Negan sighed and slightly relaxed into her touch. In an attempt to be a sweet and good husband, he mumbled to her softly, "You need anything while you're getting a visit from bitchy Aunt Flo? That way you don't turn into a bitch, too? Well, at least not a bigger fucking bitch than usual."

Rolling her eyes, Frankie dug her nails into his back in retaliation, and Negan yelped, "FUCK!" Jerking away, Negan fumed, "You bitch, you scratched me on purpose."

"I'll do it again if you keep calling me a bitch," Frankie retorted casually, and grabbed her wine glass for another dainty sip, pinky out. "Now, you want me to finish this massage?"

Grumbling under his breath about how he should have called her a pussy instead of a bitch, Negan's answer was laconic. "Yes."

"Then stop bitching like a little bitch," Frankie threw his words back at him, "And hold still for me." She placed her wine down again as her hands returned to Negan's glistening and still-tense back. The massage oil's floral fragrance caused Frankie's room to smell like roses, but the atmosphere was anything but romantic as she roughly massaged him in silence.

Finally, Negan spoke up again, unable to hold his tongue for more than five minutes at a time. "You sure you don't need anything for your fucking blood sacrifice? You're a little fucking snappy today, Frankie. And fucking rough, which on any other day would put me in the fucking mood, but right now my dick isn't interested."

True to Negan's description, Frankie snapped back, "You're one to talk, Negan." She commented on the irony of the situation. "You've been threatening to crack skulls and iron faces all week. I should be asking you if you're the one bleeding right now."

Under her hands, Negan wiggled but then went prone again after a hard-pinch from Frankie warning him otherwise. "I didn't think I'd been holding down the fort any fucking firmer than I do every damn day."

"Are you kidding? If you held the fort down any harder, you'd crush us under your boot, Negan." Frankie sighed with frustration. "And despite my best effort – and literally elbow grease," because she had dug her elbow into his back, "you're still too tense, Negan." She clucked her tongue at him like a mother hen as she continued to knead his back like dough. "Is this over that missing community?"

"No, fuck them. I gave up on those useless shits about a month ago."

"Then what is it, Negan? If sex isn't helping, you need to find an alternative outlet fast. Otherwise, someone is gonna die. And Amber has been crying enough lately after your rude comments to her."

With a guilty sigh, Negan considered the situation. He didn't want to go back to smoking. There weren't enough cigarettes left in the world to sate him. He didn't want to drink more than he already did, if only because Lucille died of liver cancer caused by their shared alcoholic lifestyle. Fucking wasn't enough anymore. Killing and violence and brutality was too dangerous judging by last week's failed expedition. What other pleasures could this shitty life give him?

"What do you do to feel better when you're on your fucking period?" Negan helpless inquired, at a lost for what to do otherwise.

Pausing to consider, Frankie grabbed her wine glass again, swirling its contents thoughtfully. "A nice sweet snack helps me feel better. Like a candy bar." She hummed, desire Chocolate always hits the spot if booze can't." Pursing her lips and shrugging, Frankie quaffed the rest of her wine and went to pour herself another glass.

Sitting up and stretching, Negan shook his head at her. "You have a fucking problem, Frankie, and the first step to solving that fucking problem is to admit you fucking have it." But Frankie ignored him for her wine while he pulled on his t-shirt and black leather jacket.

"So, are you going to take my advice or not?"

"What drink myself to death?" Negan stood up and grabbed Lucille in one fluid motion, like a damn graceful ballet dancer.

But Frankie was unimpressed and unamused with his teasing. "No, I mean about finding a snack." Turning to watch him go, Frankie called, "If you find some chocolate can you bring me back a piece?"

"After your bitchy, shitty attitude?" Negan quipped, but when he saw Frankie frown and take a bigger gulp of her wine, he changed his mind. "You're lucky you're my wife and that you give damn good massages."

Briefly, Frankie perked up a bit at his slanted compliment. "The massage wasn't that great this time. You're still too tense."

"But I feel better, Frankie, so that's all that really fucking counts in the end." Half-heartedly saluting her with Lucille in a lazy fashion, Negan said, "I'll fucking bring you something back. Don't worry."

"You're the one who shouldn't be worrying so damn much."

Halfway smirking, Negan wryly said, "Thanks so much for you concern, dear wife. Try not to grow gills while I'm gone."

"Ha, ha," Frankie said insincerely, and then closed the door behind him as he left.

Hitching Lucille up on his shoulder, Negan tried to put on his happy persona by whistling a jaunty tune as he made his way down to the kitchens in search of a snack. Chocolate did sound pretty great about now.

Unfortunately for Negan, the kitchens didn't have so much as a chocolate chip. Even the coco powder that they used for hot chocolate had been used up over a month ago. The only real dessert they could offer him was some ice cream, but all they had was that weird flavor that Simon gushed about so much. No thanks. Negan had tried that cardamom gelato, and was not a fan.

It was so frustrating for Negan now that even though he could ask for practically anything and the kitchens would scramble to make it, all he wanted was some damn chocolate. Frankie put the idea in his head and now he had the damn hankering for it. But it was an itch that he wouldn't be able to scratch, and his foul mood returned in full force. Damn it. An orgasm and a massage gone to waste just like that.

On the hunt, Negan decided to check and see if anyone was selling chocolate in the market since there wasn't a scrap of chocolate in either the kitchens nor the pantry. Hell, even an expired candy bar sounded good right now. Rounding the corner, Negan nearly collided with who else but the newbie from the last run.

"Hey, watch where you're going," she snapped, but when her eyes snapped up to his amused ones, she dropped her flinty, dark eyes back to the floor and kneeled for him. Damn, he would never get over a sight like that. He hadn't even told people to do it. They just started doing it for him, and he didn't see a reason to tell them not to. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't see it was you."

"Obvious-fucking-ly." Curious, Negan tilted his head to the side. The newbie had done it. She had actually taken his words to heart – not that he had been that serious – and had gone and shaved her head until it was down to a soft fuzz. If she were a blonde, Negan might've compared her to a peach. That didn't mean she was ugly with darker hair, because Negan was still tempted to ran his hand over her scalp. But she wasn't a dog, so he wasn't going to just reach out and touch her like that without her explicit permission. Still, he couldn't help but comment on it. "Shit, I didn't expect you to actually listen to me. A simple fucking haircut would've done just fine."

Since she had bowed her head, he couldn't see her face. Her voice was muffled and soft when she replied – because she had to reply. Negan always expected an answer when he speaks to someone. "It seemed stupid to waste the points on a haircut, so I did it myself. I didn't think I could screw it up by shaving it." She rolled her shoulders in an elegant shrug, "And I've always wanted to shave my head like this. I like it."

"Shit, I do, too. Very bad ass and practical. That's fucking needed today as you very well know."

Surprised, the newbie looked up at him, and he noticed on closer inspection that she was wearing glasses and she had a piercing on her eyebrow. He must not have noticed last time considering that he had almost died and so had she. "Thank you, sir." And now with her face lifted, Negan could see her blushing. It was cute.

Negan pressed his lips together, and then opened his lips to ask, "What's your name?"

"Negan," she immediately answered.

His hand slashed through the air as he dismissed that. "You can tell me your real name."

Her mouth shaped a silent 'Oh' of understanding, and then she said, "Rebecca."

"Rebecca," Negan repeated, carefully shaping the name with his lips until it left a funny sensation on his mouth, much like a kiss. He was terrible with names, but he was going to try and remember this one. "Beautiful fucking name. You're one of the new fucking Saviors, right?"

"Th-thank you," Rebecca stuttered disbelievingly and then answered with more assurance, "Yes, I'm one of the new Saviors that started about two weeks ago, along with Jovana."

"She's fucking mute, right?"

"Deaf, actually, but I think the correct term is for being unable to talk is dumb."

"Fuck, my fucking mistake," Negan meant earnestly. "Yeah, I remember her. She impressed the shit outta me. I had to have her as a Savior, especially after that fucking glowing recommendation from Simon. Of course, he's fucking sweet on her, too, so he could've been embellishing it, but having a deaf girl be more capable than half my fucking men as it is, is no small fucking feat." Rebecca's eyes had widened, and Negan cursed and corrected himself. "Shit, don't fucking tell her what I said about Simon. He's trying to impress her in his own kind of fucking way."

"Tequila and cardamom gelato?" Rebecca hazarded a guess with a half-smile.

He mimicked her expression, "I think he's trying to learn fucking sign language for her, too." Negan exaggeratedly whispered, "That's why he's been hunkering down in the library so fucking much, but you didn't hear any of that shit from me." Lifting a finger, he pressed it to his lips and mumbled around it as he leaned down towards Rebecca's conspiring-like "This will be our little fucking secret."

At the intimacy of the gesture, Rebecca blushed. She turned her face away and stepped aside, clearly intending to move out of his way so he could continue about his business. But Negan wasn't finished with her yet.

"Say, Rebecca, can I touch it?"

Startled a bit, Rebecca said, "Touch what?"

"Your fucking head," Negan clarified, "It looks all soft and fucking fuzzy. Like a damn peach."

She started at him before she cautiously replied, "I guess you can touch it, but please don't try and test its ripeness."

Negan laughed, but then his eyes flickered down to her neck, and the laughter died down. She had a faint yellow outline of a bruise from his hand gripping her neck. Guilt flashed through him, but then he pushed it aside as he tugged with glove off with his teeth. His hand now bared, he gently reached over and rubbed his hand over her scalp. Smiling widely at her, Negan said, "I was fucking right. It is soft and fucking fuzzy like a goddamned Georgia peach." Withdrawing his hand, he worked his leather glove back on, and Rebecca stood their awkwardly, her cheeks blushing the same color pink as Frankie's rosé wine.

"Say, Rebecca, how about this," Negan began. "Since you were such a team player letting me rub your head like I'm a fortune teller checking my crystal ball for fucking weather predictions, what do you say to touching something of mine?" Was that flirting? That could be considered flirting. Depends on if she took up his offer.

He didn't think it was possible, but Rebecca blushed even more. "Um, are you serious, sir?"

"Of fucking course, I'm damn serious as hell, Rebecca," Negan boomed, though not unkindly. "This is a fucking once in a lifetime opportunity, so choose fucking wisely." He winked at her for good measure, his horniness resurfacing again. Strange how just being around her had improved his mood so much.

Mulling it over, Negan was surprise when Rebecca accepted. "Okay." Once she did accept, though, Negan thought that she'd proposition him, or at the very least want to hold Lucille. Holding Lucille was a very special privilege since it meant having such power, something so important to him. But Rebecca didn't ask for either of those things. "Can I touch your beard?"

Face breaking out into a smile, and his smile shining behind his somewhat unkempt beard like sunshine behind the clouds, Negan nodded his consent. "Of fucking course, you can. I need to shave this shit soon, too, so this is definitely a once in a lifetime opportunity. This shit'll be gone before you fucking know it."

"That's a shame," Rebecca said sincerely, "I really like the beard. It suits your face, and it's handsome and thick."

"My wives don't appreciate the rug burn on their thighs," Negan crooned by way of explanation, and Rebecca's pink blushed deepened to a slightly reddish hue. "So, are you gonna fucking touch it or what? You waiting for it to grow so fucking long that it'll just reach out and touch your hand instead?"

Laughing good-naturedly – and Negan was pleased to see that she wasn't cowed by that like some of his wives (mainly Amber) would've been – Rebecca stepped closer to him again. She lifted her hand slowly to his face, as though she didn't want to startle him like he was a horse or something, and then she tenderly stroked her hand through his beard. "It's softer than I expected, but I can see how they could get a rug burn from your kisses." Her hand returned to her side again.

Before she could step away once more, Negan quickly asked, "Would you like to find out what that rugburn is like first hand?"

"Oh, um," she stuttered, and Negan relented.

"How about just a fucking kiss?"

"I… could do that."

"Fucking great," and without further ado, Negan stepped forward until he was pressed against her. He wrapped his free arm around her middle, pulling her to him, and dipped his head down for a kiss. Negan looked down at her upturned face just long enough to see her near tangible excitement, and then he gently pressed his lips to hers.

Initially at the contact, Rebecca froze, but as Negan moved his mouth against hers, she relaxed into it and joined in on the dance. They took turns capturing the other's bottom lip, sucking sensually, and Negan had to admit that she was a damn good kisser. Once they got their rhythm established, she took the lead and Negan followed, curious. Rebecca tilted her head, leaned up on her toes, and brought her hand back up to his beard. She was the one to deepen it, her tongue invading his open mouth, but then Negan had to be the one to lighten the kiss and finally pull away.

When he opened his eyes, he took in her flushed face and kiss swollen lips, and he wanted to kick himself for stopping the kiss. None of his wives could kiss like that, but then again nobody kisses the same. Still, Rebecca's kiss was by no means a bad one. He wanted to say that it was in fact one of the best kisses he had ever experienced, but then Lucille on his shoulder listed dangerously close to his neck, and he refrained.

Finally, she opened his eyes, pressed her swollen lips together as her own dark eyes roved over his face. Her fingers were still tangled in the ends of his beard, and someone Negan had hitched up her leg over his hip so that they were pressed together so intimately. She licked her lips, and Negan cleared his throat. "Well, are you feeling that fucking rug burn now?"

Rebecca's hand flew from his face to her own as she rubbed her hand around her lips. "Not yet," she admitted, "though, I don't think that's so bad. I'd love to have a rug burn just from kissing you." She was getting braver, and Negan liked that.

Teasing, Negan smiled at her like a shark that smelled blood in the water. He was latching onto her receptive and flirty nature like a starved leech, the easy-goingness just what he needed after trying to juggle his nitpicking and temperamental wives. God, he needed a woman that could handle herself. Not someone who was fragile and shattered at the slightest hard time, nor someone so rigid and brittle that he couldn't be himself without it feeling like a fight. He wanted a soft woman who would give a little when he pushed, but at the same time everything would bounce off of her, too. That's what he'd been hungry for.

"Even if that rug burn isn't around your pretty fucking mouth?"

"Especially if it's not around my mouth."

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, Negan shook his head from side to side as he stared at her through smoldering, half-lidded eyes. "Damn," he muttered. There was a tense pause, full of promise, but they both waited too long and it passed. Gently, Negan disentangled himself from her, and she moved back away to a respectable distance. "Welp," Negan popped the 'p' and continued blithely, "That was just the kind of sugar, I've been looking for. Sure, you don't taste like chocolate," Negan's smile was syrupy sweet, "but I think that that was fucking better than chocolate."

Rebecca actually rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. "Nothing can be better than chocolate." She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Feigning hurt, Negan placed his hand over his heart theatrically. "You saying you don't want me to fucking kiss you anymore?"

"I don't know, I thought this was just a one-time thing."

Negan wasn't stupid. He could tell what she was asking him without asking. What surprised him is that he wasn't opposed to the idea. "It doesn't fucking have to be," he hedged.

She stared at him, gauging him, and then nodded, apparently pleased with whatever she saw or whatever decision she came to in her mind. "Then there will be more."

"Great," Negan smiled brightly, spring back in his step as he shifted from foot to foot. "Then I will most fucking certainly see you around, Rebecca."

"Yeah," Rebecca replied, matching his smile beautifully, "you will."

Controlling his smile, Negan stepped around Rebecca, continuing for the commissary. Even though he didn't feel like he needed the chocolate anymore, he was still going to look for it. It wouldn't hurt to have it lying around, especially with his hormonal and moody wives. He'd promised Frankie he'd find some for her.

As he past her, Rebecca stopped him with a light hand on his upper arm. Lucille was on his shoulder just above his hand, and she rolled toward Rebecca's hand before Negan pulled her away and off his shoulder. "Yeah, Rebecca?"

"Do you… still want some chocolate?"

Swinging around to face her again, taking note of how they basically switched places, Negan perked up. "I sure as fuck would like some goddamn chocolate. What do you have?"

"Well, it's not much, but I found a box of Fudge Rounds," she offered hesitantly.

"The fuck are Fudge Rounds?"

"Like Little Debbie cakes," Rebecca explained. "Look they're chocolate, and beggars can't be fucking choosers."

Something about what she said struck a chord in Negan. Squaring his shoulders, Negan said, "Alright, Rebecca. You're offering, and I'm accepting."

"Good."


	3. A Longing for Touch

That kiss was the first of many to say the least. But to say the most, whenever Negan got a certain itch to scratch, he no longer went to his wives to take care of it. Instead, he would go knocking around Rebecca's room where he quickly became acquainted with not only just her bedroom, but Rebecca and her body intimately.

Negan had followed her back to her room for the Fudge Rounds, but he had stuck around for more. It started with a kiss, and then they collapsed on Rebecca's bed as their hands shucked off their layers. He felt like he was peeling an orange when he pulled off Rebecca's clothes because he was so hungry for something sweet and refreshing – and Rebecca was surprisingly tart, too.

Unlike Amber, Rebecca didn't just lay there and let Negan do what he wanted. Not like Frankie, Rebecca didn't give him shit either. Rebecca was an active participant. She'd push Negan, boss him around, but when he'd push back, she'd relent. When he was with her, he didn't feel like this was a chore or a battle for dominance. In fact, he felt like…

But he didn't want to focus on that in the moment. Instead he focused on the sweetness of her ass, the noises she released as he ran his hands over her, how she clutched him and encircled him with her legs to bring her close to where she wants. She felt so good, so responsive, and Negan felt so alive without feeling like he was close to death. He was immersed in liveliness as he dived between her legs, and Rebecca keened. It felt so real. A weird thought to have as he tried not to immediately come with just the first thrust, but that's what he thought all the same. This was real. Genuine.

He pushed his thoughts aside as he focused on just living in this moment. Negan didn't want to think; he just wanted his brains fucked out. Wanted Rebecca's brains to be fucked out, too. Just let them feel, rely on their senses alone as Negan swallowed her sounds, drank in her breathless sighs. Rebecca was wet, warm, willing, wild. From the fucking sauna that was her pussy to her hot, damp pants on the sensitive skin of his neck, Negan was overwhelmed with warmth and wetness. She writhed underneath him, moaning wildly, pulled and tugged at him, clamped down and trapped him to her. Not that he would want to leave, but she sealed him to her, scrabbling her hands up and down his back, scratching. And Negan's itch demanded more attention with every heavy-handed touch.

Bowing over, Negan smothered himself in her face, sure to leave a rug burn there from his beard just as he promised. Rebecca let loose a sound somewhere between a giggle and a moan, and tugged his hair roughly as she bucked her hips up into his thrusts. Negan growled and sucked one of her nipples in his mouth, and Rebecca dug her heels in his rear, riding him back as hard as he was riding her. She pushed her hands down from his hair, down his back, to his rear, which she roughly grabbed and yanked his hips to slam roughly at the apex of her sides. It was obvious that she wanted anything but soft, and Negan was more than happy to give it to her. Later he could be tender with her, but right now he didn't have the patience for it.

Releasing her nipple from his mouth with a wet pop, Negan rasped, "Oh, yeah, you fucking like that, Rebecca?" He jerked her leg up and smacked her where meaty thigh met her rear. "Speak when you're spoken to."

"Yes, yes," she hissed and rolled with his thrust, taking him deeper.

"Daddy likes it, too," Negan curled his lip into a smile and then attacked her other nipple.

Again, Rebecca rolled with Negan. "Oh, fuck yes. Fuck me harder, Daddy!"

Smiling around her nipple, Negan fucked her harder, pleased. She didn't have qualms calling him that. That was something he could certainly get used to. He smacked his hips against her, going deeper, the close contact brushing her clit with the friction of his pubic hair. Rebecca's dark eyes rolled to the back of her head and she screamed – and then came around him, trying to milk him for all he's worth.

Negan forced himself to pull out, not wanting to take the chance, and he was too caught up in her to be able to fuck her through it like he could with Amber. Slipping down her trembling body still roiling in the aftermath of her orgasm, Negan roughly gripped her inner thighs and spread her wide. Her labia was still quivering, gushing wetly, and Negan licked his lips – and then licked a stripe up her slit from her hole to her protruding clitoris and then sucked it into his mouth. Rebecca started to sing again, and attempted to close her legs, over-sensitized. Negan wasn't having that, though, and shouldered her legs open, continuing to suck and swirl his tongue around her clit. She reached down and fisted his hair, and Negan wasn't sure whether she was pushing him away or trying to smother him in her pussy. He went with the later and nuzzled his face into her intimate parts, his beard scraping over the sensitive skin. And if thought that she was going nuts before, he didn't know the half of it.

Her powerful legs wrapped around his neck like a choking weed, and Negan had to wonder if this was payback for him accidentally choking her on the run. But then she came again – so soon that Negan was surprised – and immediately she loosened her grip around him as she fell back against the bed, limp and exhausted. But Negan was far from finished.

Crawling back up her body, Negan panted, trailing her chin up her torso. He dipped it into her navel, dragged it between her breasts, stopping at her clavicle. It left a trail of her juices in its wake. "You're gonna be feeling that fucking rug burn, tomorrow."

"Mm," she shifted under him restlessly, her movements slow now. "I'm feeling it now, Daddy, and I love it."

"Yeah?" His eyes sparked at her with lust and interest, and he rutted himself up against her. "That why you tried to choke the fucking life out of me?"

Her blush returned in full force, and she had the grace to look apologetic. "Sorry about that." She scrubbed her hand through his beard, gathering the moisture of herself on her palm but not seeming to care.

"Don't fucking apologize. I didn't apologize for choking you either." Now his eyes were twinkling at her, more teasing now. Gently, he traced his fingertips over her neck in memory, the action tender and apologetic. The marks were fading, barely there, but visible if one knew where to look.

Her hand moved from his face to grip his wrist, holding his hand to her neck. "Actually, I wanted to ask you if you would do that again." Looking up into his surprised eyes, she smirked the tiniest bit. "In a safe environment, this time." Rebecca winked for good measure.

To his credit, Negan balked at her for less than a second before he laughed. "I wasn't fucking expecting that, but I can't say I'm against the idea. It's a damn fine idea." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her neck. Negan enjoyed how he could breathe easily with her, but figuratively and literally. Without any long hair in his way, Negan kiss her neck freely without worrying about choking on her hair. He liked that. His wives always threw a damn fit if he messed up their perfectly styled hair, but now he didn't have to worry about that. Briefly, he wondered how it would feel for Rebecca to suck off but he didn't have any hair to tug or pull at. It would make him more than a little helpless, the controlling factor taken away. Where would he put his hands? The idea intrigued him, but Rebecca mentioned hers first, so his would have to come later.

As he sucked hickies into her neck, Rebecca tilted her head back into her pillow to give him more access to it. Her hands returned his hair, and unlike his wives, Negan could care less if she messed it up. He was damn proud of that after sex look. Negan had that shit fucking trademarked. Though, he did enjoy the beautiful afterglow more on his partners, how they're covered in fluids and love-bruises. Fuck, he'd bet that Rebecca would most certainly wear that look well. He couldn't wait to see it.

Lifting his mouth from her skin, Negan muttered hotly in her ear, "You want me to do it? To squeeze your pretty little swan neck until your gasping and breathless for me? To fuck you while I do it? You like living on the edge, Rebecca?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Rebecca chanted, breathlessly already. She pulled him back from her face so that she could make eye contact with him to emphasize her point. His dark eyes met own dark ones, the gaze itself dark and lustful, but most importantly trusting. "I want you to fuck me, Negan, fuck me hard. Fucking choke me, Daddy."

Settling himself between her open and slickened thighs again, Negan readied himself to entire her. His eyes traced over her face, taking her in, wanting to sear the image of her now on the inside of his eyelids so he would never forget this. He wanted to imprint her on his brain and lock this deep into his memory. Trailing his fingers down her cheek, his touch feather light, Negan settled his hand at the base of her throat, just resting it there. "If you need to breathe, you tap my wrist twice with two fingers. If I think you need to breathe, I will stop."

Rebecca licked her lips in anticipation, but nodded at him seriously. She understood the gravity of the situation, didn't try to rush him, didn't try to convince him otherwise. Negan appreciated that. There was no need for her to be a badass. Being reckless in the bedroom never helped anyone. Save that courage for out there when it's a fight for your life, not for in here where there is no fighting, just feeling.

He stroked her neck fondly, and then stroked his cock into her pussy. Rebecca's eyes fell shut and her mouth dropped open, though, at first no sound was released. Negan thrusted again, and then she moaned loudly, delirious with her pleasure. Her face contorted in pleasure, and Negan as much pleasure as watching her beautiful face as much as he took his pleasure from her velvet pussy vice.

With every thrust, he applied a little more pleasure and Rebecca moaned for him louder. "Fuck, Negan. Oh, god, oh my god. Shit, shit, shit. Daddy, yes, just like that!" Soon though, she stopped talking as his grip became too tight for her voice to come out much louder than a whisper. He kept his thrusts rhythmic but increasingly harder, neither too fast nor too slow, but going just deep enough to tantalizingly brush over that sweet spot that made her dark eyes roll to the back of her head.

Entranced, Negan watched how a droplet of sweat rolled down her forehead and caught on the piercing on her brow. Impetuously, he bent forward and gently kissed the spot before he pulled back to watch her face. It was important for him to see that he wasn't taking it too far, but that didn't seem to be the case at all. Rebecca reveled in his firm touch, despite the slight hint of pain pinching the skin around her eyes. She didn't fight him, didn't ask for a reprieve, and Negan took her trust to heart. He'd loosen his grip periodically, not wanting her to pass out, and she gratefully took in the air as it was freely offered.

When Negan sensed that she was close to reaching her end, Negan clamped down and changed the angle at which he entered her. Now he went from just brushing her sweet spot to hit it dead on with the blunt head of his cock. The change was instantaneous, and Negan could tell that she was climber higher to her peak of pleasure. She was almost there, almost, almost. With one last powerful thrust, Negan released his hold around her neck and Rebecca took a deep breath in, lungs expanding, pushing her breasts up. Then within the next second, she came, and she expelled all the air in her lungs with a loud shout of pleasure.

Her final climax was so powerful that it triggered his own, and Negan barely had time to pull out before he started coming on her stomach. He didn't even have to reach down and tug himself to finish, he was coming practically untouched. His release dripped from her navel down towards her pussy, as if it knew where it was meant to be, but Negan quickly and carelessly wiped it away with his hands before he collapsed on his side. Negan took a moment to himself, and then he asked her, "That what you fucking wanted?"

Breathless and with a croaky voice – of course – Rebecca answered, "Yes." Turning to look at him, she tacked on, "Though, I think maybe you should wear your leather glove for next time."

Before he could help it, Negan guffawed in her face. "Fuck, you're a kinky thing, aren't you Rebecca?"

She snorted at him and weakly smacked his chest. "Yes," she answered him shortly.

"Mm," Negan hummed, catching her hand and holding it to his sweaty, hairy chest, "I fucking like that."

Rebecca smiled at him, and then hid her smile in the pillow as she turned over on her side to face him. When she lifted her face back up, she had composed herself again, going for a flirtier look. "I'm ready to go again if you are." Her free hand slipped down to his dick and took him in hand, pumping him. He was already at half-mast. The man had five wives, so of course he'd have a high sex drive. Lucky for him, Rebecca's libido was nearly as ravenous and insatiable, too.

"Damn, Rebecca," Negan said admiring, his eyes wrinkling at the corners in a smile. "Actually, I was hoping I could get you to fucking suck my thick, meaty dick."

All too eager, Rebecca shimmied down the bed. "Oh, I can do that." Looking up at him from further down the bed, Rebecca coyly added, "Just don't expect a rug burn from me."

Negan laughed again, the sound carefree and for once not meant to be belittling or malicious or intimidating. He relaxed back against the headboard, cushioned by the pillow, and Rebecca tugged and fondled him a little harder until his half-mast went to full flagging interest. She looked up at him with a smirk, her dark eyes gleaming as brightly as her silver piercing, and Negan crooked a smile right back at her. Her smiled opened, hovered over the weeping head of his dick and teased him with her breath, just ghosting. And then Rebecca dipped her head down and closed her mouth around him.

Immediately, Negan's eyes rolled to the back of his head and his head dropped back with a hard thump against the wall. It hurt a bit, but the feel of her mouth around him like a vacuum thoroughly distracted him from the dull ache of his head. She started to move up and down, dragging her tongue, sucking hard, applying just the slightest pressure of her teeth. It drove Negan wild, and he gritted his own teeth in response, jaw tensing and ticking as he restrained himself from thrusting his dick down her throat. He imagined that her throat was sore enough as it was, and he was a gentleman, sometimes.

Still, he couldn't help but shallowly buck his hips up into her mouth, and for the most part Rebecca let him, but she controlled the movements. From under her lashes, she looked up at him with her mouth so full of his dick that drool and precome had started to leak out of the corners of her mouth. The sight was so erotically intoxicating that he nearly came on the spot, but he controlled himself. He wanted to prolong this, savor the moment, and he didn't want to surprise her and have her cough and sputter up his come after shooting it down her throat. His previous orgasm helped him maintain his control, lengthening his stamina as he let Rebecca work his dick over with her mouth. This was damn good.

Negan reached his hands out, and for a moment they wavered in the air, unsure of themselves. Her hair was shorn so close to her scalp that there was practically nothing for him to grab. At a loss, he dropped his hands to the bed and grabbed fistfuls of the sheet, tugging hard as if he were directing the movements of a horse. This would have to do for him, and Negan channeled what little frustrations he did have into cursing louder, a near constant stream of filth steadily dripping from his lips as much as the spittle dripped from Rebecca's swollen lips.

At one point, Rebecca licked his glands just right, her hands massaging his balls applying some pressure and Negan gave a shout in shock. He dropped the sheets and balled his hands into fists, blunt fingernails digging into his palms. "Oh, fucking motherfuck, Rebecca, I'll fucking come for you if you do that shit again."

Rebecca took the statement for an invitation, and repeated the motion again and again, and Negan's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as he came in her mouth. Unlike what he expected – Rebecca just kept surprising him – she didn't gag or pull away. At most, her eyes watered up, but she took it like a champ. When she pulled away, a bit of his release dribbled down her chin, but her pink tongue came out and licked that up. "Not quite the cough syrup that I need, but that was about the same level of bitterness," she teased him in her hoarse voice, smirking at him all the same.

Negan mirrored her smirk, and coolly shot back at her, "Well, beggars can't be fucking choosers."

"No, they can't." Rebecca said and then coughed once. Just as quickly as it happened, it passed again. "Hey, you never got to try one of those Fudge Rounds, did you?"

"No, I did fucking not." Negan responded matter-of-factly.

"Would you like one now?" Rebecca shyly offered, her blush coming back again.

Not that Negan minded the blush at all. He found it cute that she could still blush after that kinky shit, but he let it roll of his shoulders like water on a duck's back. "Sure, I'll fucking try one. I'm famished after a good fucking fuck like that."

"Me, too, Negan."


	4. A Craving for Affection

After that, Negan and Rebecca had an unusual relationship to say the least. He'd stop by for sweets here and there, and most of the time when he visited, they'd have sex. Not every time, but most of the time. They got to reenact the choking experience with his leather glove one time and found that it really heightened the experience for Rebecca.

And it seems that they always found a way to batter, bruise, and abuse the other's neck. Negan's scarf stopped being a fashion accessory that said 'stylish yet dangerous' and became a necessity to cover up the hickies and bruises. Rebecca didn't have a scarf at first, but Negan found a grey one for her that would do the trick. She was so touched when he presented it to her that she immediately pulled him into bed to show her gratitude. That's when Negan learned another use to the scarf – for binding hands to the headboard or blindfolding eyes.

They swapped jokes a lot, sometimes they'd talk about the old world or Rebecca's old group. Rebecca had been in medical school, but then she'd left right before the world went to hell. Negan teased her that medical training would've definitely come in handy, but Rebecca still knew a lot more than he did. Her old group had been shit; just a bunch of cowards and soft people. She didn't care much for them, but she was glad she wasn't with them anymore. Negan was glad that she was here, too, and Rebecca was glad that she was made into a Savior rather than just a worker, another number at the Sanctuary.

But that was the kicker. At the end of the day, Rebecca was still only a Savior. He'd never stay the night, and he never brought her to his rooms. Negan wasn't sure why he hadn't proposed to her. Lately he'd been satisfying himself with her body so much that he hadn't so much as touched his other wives or spoke much to them at all. The next logical step would have been to induct Rebecca in the harem, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. This wasn't at all how he normally went about adding a wife.

For one, he wouldn't go behind the other wives' backs. For another, he never fucked them out of wedlock. But something about Rebecca made Negan throw all caution to the wind. Would it be a cliché for him to say that she was different, that there was something special about her that kept him from adding her to his collection? But he had a feeling that it wasn't that that kept him from marrying her.

No, he knew that deep down, he was afraid. Not so much with commitment issues, but that if she became a wife, Rebecca would change. She'd start acting like his wives did now, she wouldn't genuinely like him anymore. Rebecca would become just another bratty, spoiled Barbie doll, and he'd never get to touch her or hold her in his arms like he liked without her complaining about a wrinkle in her dress.

Part of Negan also knew that Rebecca didn't want to be a wife. She worked hard at being a Savior and it showed. Rebecca would be bored as hell sitting on her ass all damn day, just looking pretty with nothing to do. Negan admired her work ethic as a Savior. He'd watch her go about her duties, usually paired with that Jovana girl. Neither one of them would slack off, and took every duty they had – even the seemingly menial tasks – seriously. He could trust them to not screw up whatever he had them assigned to, and he knew he'd never catch them napping on guard duty or abandoning their post for a fucking sandwich.

As much as Negan liked having Rebecca be one of his Saviors, he also hated it. Sure, he was well aware that she was a capable young woman. Rebecca like most others in this new, shitty world had seen her fair share of shit. But she coped it with it well and didn't let it get to her. However, part of the job description of being a Savior meant putting your neck out for the Sanctuary and its people – and the people of the Sanctuary were mainly a bunch of cowardly, ungrateful pricks. Saviors were also tasked with always putting Negan's safety above their own. He expected each and every one of them to lay their bare ass out on the line for him if it came down to it – no exceptions. Except now, Negan didn't think he could bare to see a dead-alive snatch Rebecca up, or anything else so terrible. God, when the hell did he become so weak?

This wasn't weakness, though. No, what this was was vulnerability and attachment, something Negan couldn't risk having. He hadn't felt this way since Lucille, and that scared him more than anything. Was he ready to really put her behind him and move on? For Christ's sake, he was still lugging around the bat named after her.

There was one time that he forgot Lucille by accident. He'd left her somewhere, where exactly he couldn't remember at the time, and Negan went crazy looking for her. He tore apart his room, retraced his steps, barked orders to find her, threatened certain death if he found out someone stole her. Negan was about to start foaming at the mouth when Rebecca appeared, holding what else but Lucille, freshly polished and cleaned, shiny as the day she was made and christened by Negan. Sheepishly, Rebecca passed her over to Negan with such care as one would a baby. "You, uh, forgot her in my room." She blushed at that, but lucky for both her and Negan, no one else was in ear-shot to hear her.

Numbly, Negan took Lucille back, and returned to his room. He wasn't sure how that could have happened, but somehow, it had. The bat was placed in her designated armchair and Negan took a seat across from her. They stared each other down, and for once, Negan was unsure what this Lucille was thinking. Was she jealous of Rebecca? Encouraging? Admiring? Was it Lucille that was betraying him this time or was Negan continuing to betray her now?

For too long of a time, Negan stared at the bat, feeling much of the same way he did when he was in that damn, claustrophobic hospital room with his sick Lucille. She was lying there, dying, a retching mess after her chemo treatments, utterly exhausted. In those darkest moments, Negan wouldn't wish it was him that was suffering like the piece of shit he was. Instead, Negan boiled with anger, stifling it so his wife could sleep as peacefully as she could. And he was ashamed to admit that he was angry that Lucille couldn't beat this, that they just couldn't back to how things were when Negan could have everything he wanted. Like he said, he was a piece of shit, and damn selfish to boot.

There was a knock on the door, and Negan automatically barked with no biting edge to his voice, "Fuck right off."

Instead of doing as he said, the knock repeated, and Negan frowned, brow knitting together in consternation. He was tempted to reach over and pluck Lucille from her spot then just to bust that asshole knocker's brain so they could both feel better and together again rather than this disjointedness Negan felt right now. As it was, Negan just called, "Come the fuck in then, and you better have a good fucking reason to or I'll paint your brains all over my Lucille."

At his behest, in entered Rebecca, her mouth twisted into a wry half-smile at his words. Guilt twisted Negan's gut, but he let it ago as he addressed her. "Yeah, Rebecca?"

She made no move to sit down, just stood there solidly. He admired how she didn't act awkward or seem out of place in his bedroom as she spoke to him calmly, "I just wanted to check and see if you were okay. I know how much Lucille means to you." Rebecca glanced at the bat out of the corner of her eye, as if afraid that Lucille might come to life and strike at her like some venomous snake. Well, it wasn't quite fear that was in Rebecca's eyes, but more like wariness. It was understandable.

In truth, Rebecca didn't know about the real Lucille. Hell, no one knew the real story. Not even Simon, who Negan had known from before, knew the full extent. Negan and Simon had been friends, not close friends, but they saw each other almost every weekend when Negan would visit Simon's bar. Simon hadn't known that Negan was married as he watched him leave with a new girl on his arm around closing time every night. It was a smart, albeit dick move on Negan's part to hide his wedding room before he'd enter the bar, and he and Simon would swap stories about picking up chicks. If Simon had known Negan was married, they probably wouldn't have been friends. As it was, when Lucille got sick, Negan started coming more frequently, but Simon just assumed it was woman troubles, and he wasn't far from the truth so Negan let it go. When Negan named the bat, Simon didn't bat an eye. He just clapped Negan on the shoulder and said it was a beautiful name.

Now as Negan dully stared at Rebecca, he wondered if now would be the time to reveal the truth about Lucille. That he should tell Rebecca that before his right-hand man (and best friend) Simon or any of his wives should be a tip off that Negan was in too deep. But he couldn't help it. He wanted to unburden him to someone who would actually care. So, he told Rebecca everything: Lucille, her cancer, his affairs.

To her credit, Rebecca casually sat down in Lucille's armchair after transferring her to the coffee table. She docilely sat there and listened to Negan confess his sins with all the patience of a damn saint. Of course, she couldn't manage to keep a blank expression so Negan saw every flash of condemnation that flitted across her dark eyes. But she didn't interrupt him, didn't leave. Negan unloaded everything on her, unsure if he wanted confirmation that he was a huge asshole or if he wanted her to say otherwise. He wasn't sure what he wanted from her. What could he even ask of her after putting her in a situation like this?

But Negan knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted the truth, he wanted her to make the decision for him of what he was. Negan also knew that no matter what she said, he wouldn't believe it either way. He's had so many people scream at him about how much of a monster he was, but he'd laugh it all and live for it. Now, he wasn't so sure. Things weren't like they once were, but even after all of it this, it was different again.

More than the truth, Negan wanted her to still care about him no matter what. Rebecca knew about the beatings with Lucille the bat and the punishments with the iron and the subjugation of other communities. But being a huge asshole before the end of the world was a little harder to swallow. Was it selfish for Negan to want her to still want to be with him despite it all? All he wants is someone to care about him. Well, not just someone. Negan wanted Rebecca to care about him. Everyone else's opinion didn't matter so long as she cared.

As it was, when Negan finished, Rebecca leveled him with a hard stare. It was not one of contempt or denial or horror like he expected. Her look was angry, yes, but soft, frustrated. "Negan, we've all done shitty things. Before and after, it doesn't matter. I'm not gonna tell you that it's okay that you cheated because it isn't. But I'm not gonna sit here and lay into you for it either. You know it's a fucking shitty thing to do." Here, she sat forward, elbows on her knees. "But if you know it's shitty, why are you still doing it?"

Taken aback, Negan paused and considered. He took note of how Rebecca's hair after a few weeks had started to grow so long that it was in that awkward stage. She hadn't gotten around to buzzing it down again. Focusing past that and just on her, Negan answered, "I don't fucking know. I can't go back to how things were before. I can't give up everything."

"I never asked you, too, but Negan," Rebecca sighed heavily, "that's what you're saying now. I thought they knew."

Voice harder, Negan snapped back, "I just fucking told you, I can't give them up. Those women are counting on me, they won't survive without me, they weren't fucking surviving before. Amber's mom is sick, I give her fucking medicine. Frankie is an alcoholic, she won't be able to afford booze otherwise. Tanya," Negan was about to list how she was in shambles around people, how she needed to be cut off from the world, but Rebecca cut him off instead.

"Why do you need me if you have them? Why haven't you told them about me? Would it really bother them to know?"

"I don't fucking know, what I have with them is just a business agreement. There aren't any feelings or any of that shit."

"Like you have with me?"

His lips pressed together, but the truth burst out of him anyway, "Yes, I fucking care about you so much now, Rebecca." Not the sweetest way to confess that, but it was out there now nonetheless.

Surprised, Rebecca blush. She had expected him not to admit it, he could tell. "I won't be a wife."

"I fucking know that."

"And I won't give up being a Savior."

Here, Negan shook his head, twisting his mouth into a grimace. "I can't fucking lose you now."

Swiftly, Rebecca stood up. Her tone brooked no argument. "You're in an even more dangerous position than I am, even with all your added protections. Don't you remember? I had to save you. I'm one of your Saviors, Negan. Let me do my job. Let me be your Savior."

Negan's mouth pinched as did the skin around his eyes. "I saved you, too, that day."

"I think," Rebecca said more gently now, "that I saved you more." She shook her head and rephrased it, "That's too childish. What I mean is, I think," she looked at him meaningfully and stressed, "I saved you in more ways than one."

Like a puppet with his strings cut, Negan collapsed backwards in his chair heavily. "You're right, Rebecca. Fuck." Looking up at her pleadingly, Negan's voice was soft when he beseeched her, "but I can't let you go out there."

Squaring her shoulders, Rebecca shook her head. "Then I won't be with you anymore if you won't let me be a Savior."


	5. A Yearning for Love

Instead of having an explosive argument with her, Negan knew better. He hadn't expected her to give him such an ultimatum as that, but he should've known better. Rebecca did what she wanted to – much like Negan himself – but they were different in that Rebecca was selfless and Negan was selfish. Negan could've been an asshole and thrown his weight around to prevent her from doing her job, but he knew that that shit wouldn't fly with Rebecca either. And he didn't want her to be trapped or tied to him. He wanted her to be with him by her own choice. That would make it real, something that has been sorely lacking from Negan's life from a while. Not even Lucille had had a choice to stay with him since she got sick.

His time with Rebecca had been nearly nine months, if Negan could be sure about it. Less than a month without her, and they had gone about their business. For Negan, it was like he went back to how he was before he met Rebecca, when he still dubbed her as the newbie in his mind. He was back to obsessing over Lucille, to thriving off of his power and living in her persona rather than separating it from himself. This was how he survived, how he coped.

But he couldn't have forgotten about her. He was reminded of her nearly everywhere. He'd taken to avoiding wherever he knew she would be posted, but that wasn't enough. In his meetings with Simon, Simon would eventually always mention Jovana, and by doing so he'd talk about Rebecca, too. He'd gush over how accomplished Rebecca was as a Savior, how she could rival Arat as a good shot and maybe Dwight should be skipped over in favor of becoming the next lieutenant with an outpost. Negan immediately shut that down. Not that he didn't think she couldn't run an outpost, but that he didn't want her to be gone. They might not be together, but Negan just couldn't let her go yet. He'd keep her safe how he could.

The opportunity came when it was time to try and brave the Target store again. They really needed that extra outpost – the one that would be Dwight's and not Rebecca's. For a while they had scouted around the area, but no other building was big enough for as many men that Negan needed posted there. There was starting to be an overcrowding problem at the Sanctuary that put a stress on their resources. Negan didn't want to risk taking more from the other communities than he already was. It was obvious there was no other choice. Target would have to be cleared out.

Since there were so many dead-alives – more than last time – Negan had no choice but to bring Rebecca. He needed every Savior he could get. Rebecca was assigned to his group, along with her friend Jovana. Simon was a little upset at that, but he was a good right-hand man and kept his mouth shut. Dwight had his own group, too, since this place would be his one day, so he was going to have to fight for it.

In typical Scooby Doo fashion, they had split up. Dwight's group was going to the back entrance with Simon's and Negan's group cleared the parking lot and plowed through the front. Negan tried to show his usual bravado, to put himself in the zone. But neither he or Lucille took the usual chore they did from killing the dead-alives.

It was strange holding Lucille in his hand and she felt foreign. She felt listless and lifeless. Like she wasn't there anymore. Lucille hasn't felt like she once did since Rebecca walked out of his room. Negan wondered if she took Lucille's ghost with her, if she could see her now. Checking over his shoulder for Rebecca, she looked fine to Negan. She was concentrating on beating of the dead-alives, but there were no bags under her eyes, she was a healthy color. Maybe not happy, but given the current predicament, Negan could understand. He smiled when he saw her hair was buzzed down to its short length again.

Negan's smile slid off his face when he watched in horrifying slow motion as one dead-alive lumbered up behind Rebecca. It was rotted to hell, but Negan tell that it was once a woman, and it had no hair and it was so thin that the bones protruding from the slackened skin. Negan saw his dead Lucille, and when he blinked his eyes, he couldn't see the alive Lucille no matter how hard he tried to remember.

His feet moved on their own towards Rebecca and he shouted her name, "Fucking behind you!"

Rebecca's eyes flew to his, startled, and she only broke eye contact with him when Jovana knocked her out of the way. Negan pushed past them, dragging his eyes away from Rebecca's and he drove the end of Lucille into the dead-alives chest. It collapsed to the ground, clawing the air with bone fingers and snarling with snaggled teeth. Lucille rose in the air, Negan's shoulder strained, it felt like the air became thick, sluggish water. He couldn't breathe. The bat was coming down on its own, not even gravity doing the work, and then the dead-alive's face was bashed in and Negan felt his heart move again.

Looking back at the bloody bat in his hand, Negan felt like it was…just a bat. Glancing back down at corpse on the ground, Negan knew it wasn't Lucille. She was still trapped in that hospital, rotting away. Finally, he turned around and faced Rebecca again. All around them the Saviors hacked away at dead-alives and they were in the thick of it. Jovana had gone back to killing, and despite it all, it was just Negan and Rebecca.

Rebecca broke the silence first. "Thank you for saving me." Their eyes searched one another. Though their body language was hesitant and unsure, both of their dark eyes reflected that they just knew. They knew.

"I thought you fucking saved me," Negan said. "You are my Savior, Rebecca."

She smiled, and even with the blood splattered across her, Negan thought she was beautiful. A baseball bat couldn't compare to that. "We've still got work to do, Negan."

And they did work together. Side by side they cleared away the dead-alives, covering each other's back. Negan could trust her, it was no longer just him against the world. He didn't feel like she was some newbie dead weight. Every so often they would look at each other in the middle of it. They didn't have to say it.

Negan was still using the bat – Lucille. He could still call it that. But she felt different, comfortable but in his control. Negan was in control of himself, he didn't feel like such an animal. Clearing this Target wasn't conquering the world, but a job. This was life now. Lucille is at rest.

Once they made it inside, they hunted down the rest of the lingering dead-alives easily. Negan noted how easy-going things were. People were on their guard, but they weren't afraid, a careful balance of being alert yet confident. He saw Simon offering Jovana a bath cloth to help clean the blood from her cheek. It made Negan smile. He also saw Dwight rummaging through the supplies, sorting them out for the Sanctuary and for this Target. That made Negan proud and he was looking forward to having fresh towels. Negan and Rebecca made their way to the bedding section, knowing that the Sanctuary could definitely use more of that considering the influx of new people.

Together they sorted through the sheets, stacking them in the shopping carts. "Buggy," Negan called one of them, and Rebecca laughed at him for it. Her laughter was gratifying.

"What do you think of this color?" Rebecca asked as she showed him wine-colored king-sized sheets.

"I think Frankie would be able to tell me exactly what kind of fucking wine that would be," Negan joked.

Rebecca's smile faltered. "Did you ever tell them about me? Have you… gone back to them?"

"No, I didn't tell them about you, and I'm not sleeping with them. I'm sure they fucking knew there was another woman, but they don't seem to fucking care. None of them have asked me for a fuck yet, and I've been making do." He waved his hand, and Rebecca laughed again, despite herself.

"Me, too," she admitted and then seriously added, "I've missed you, though."

"I've fucking missed the shit out of you, too, Rebecca. Fuck," Negan shook his head, "Just, fuck."

Rebecca's mouth was a thin line as she ran her hand over the sheets thoughtfully. Then she looked up at him, dark eyes shining. "Will you take me back?"

Negan's heart may have been beating, but now it was for a purpose, not just to survive, but to really live. "I want you to fucking be with me again, Rebecca."

She smiled and stepped up to him for a kiss, but he stopped her with a hand on her chest. Rebecca frowned in confusion, but Negan was quick to explain. "But only if you let me pick the sheets."

Shaking her head at him, Rebecca smiled again. "Do you only think about sex with me?"

"No, I think about the rest of my fucking life with you, Rebecca." Negan breathed his confession to her, earnestly, quietly, stressing how true it was, "I fucking love you."

"I," Rebecca stuttered, "I love you, too, Negan." And this time he did let her kiss him, but before they could start fucking on the shelves, Rebecca was the one to stop them this time. "But I'm picking the sheets and I want the red ones."

"Fuck, fine, whatever you want. You'll stay a Savior, I'll give up my wives. Anything, just please…" Negan trailed off. _Please don't leave me._

"I know," Rebecca said, her eyes patient and understanding, "I know." She trailed a line of kisses down his neck.

"My Savior," he rasped, knees weak, arms tight around her.

"Your Savior," she agreed.

And she was.


End file.
